


Near Dark

by Marasa



Series: Mike and Jay Do Movies [3]
Category: RedLetterMedia RPF
Genre: Blood, Blood Drinking, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Love at First Sight, M/M, Vampire AU, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:08:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23768245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marasa/pseuds/Marasa
Summary: The darkness had never felt so good.
Relationships: Mike/Jay
Series: Mike and Jay Do Movies [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1591657
Comments: 8
Kudos: 25





	Near Dark

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been wanting to do a vampire AU fic with these two forever and I watched Near Dark for the first time tonight so here it is.
> 
> (Warning: there’s a quick mention of something that’s technically self-harm, so be careful if that’s upsetting to you)

The darkness had never felt so good.

It was cool, brisk, relieving on the fresh scalding the sun had given him. It hadn’t even been that hot; the high for the week was forecast to be 82 degrees Fahrenheit.

But Mike had hobbled, sick and trailing a plume of smoke, down the side of the road at daybreak. He hadn’t even been thinking of the outlandishness, the sheer impossibility of such a thing, had instead been preoccupied with the sting of his skin exposed to the light. 

Mike remembered soon after the screech of brakes, the metal pop of the van’s back doors opening. He remembered acute familiarity in the voice that called out for him to  _ ‘get the fuck out of the sun!’ _

He was laying in a bed now. Small mattress, narrow. A thin blanket was thrown over him. The window to his right was unevenly spray-painted black, turning white sunlight to midnight blue. It was manageable that way, not at all searing. 

But Mike’s head hurt. His shoulders ached. The muscles down his sides and stomach spasmed and shivered with growing pain. He groaned deep in his chest and rolled into the body pressed against his left in search of any comfort.

Fingers threaded in his sweaty hair. They felt the same as the ones from last night when he had picked up that pretty boy from the bar. They’d driven around, parked in an abandoned lot, relocated to the backseat of Mike’s car and— what was his name?.... Jay!  _ Oh, Jay _ — Jay had kissed his lips and his face and taken him out of his pants and loved him. And Mike had loved him back, so deep and so good.

And then there had been the exciting nip of teeth at Mike’s neck, and then the excruciating pain of canines tearing at his jugular. 

What a mess. The back of his car was probably ruined.

God, Jay smelt good. Mike pressed his face into his throat, felt the thrum of blood against the tip of his nose. Maybe he should repay the favor.

Three fingers rested over his parted lips, the pad of the middle one rubbing on the edge of his itchy incisor. 

“Don’t you dare,” Jay murmured like he thought Mike might still be asleep. 

There was a television on and someone on the sofa over Jay’s shoulder. The sound was distant, fuzzy, unimportant. 

The entire world jostled. They were moving. Mike could feel it now, every bump in the road like a punch in the gut, every pothole a slug to the jaw. 

Someone spoke. A man. 

“So how do you wanna do this? Drop him off here? Drop him off tonight? Kill him? Jay.”

No answer. Mike thought perhaps he should at least try to beg for his life but his throat felt stuck with needles.

“You better make up your mind soon. Look at him; he’s sick!”

“Of course he’s sick, Rich,” Jay snapped, but his lips were soft as he kissed Mike’s forehead. The start of a smile twitched at the edge of Mike’s mouth. “We were sick, too. At the start.”

“I still remember it,” came another voice, this time from the small couch. It was soft and dreamy, like the song of a little bird. “Ontario. 1891. I was at Knox College at the time. I still remember the chills and the aches; I didn’t know what was wrong with me. My roommate cut his face while shaving. Then I knew.”

There was a cheesy, crash sound effect on the television. Canned laughter followed. 

“We can’t take care of him,” Rich said. “We have to make it to Duluth—“

“I’ll take care of him.”

“Jay, we’re leaving him behind.”

“He stays.”

“C’mon, Rich,” the alum from Knox College pleaded kindly. 

“Stay out of it, Colin.” There was a pause. Then, “ _ Fine _ . He has one week. If he can keep up with us, he can stay. If he can’t—“

Rich didn’t finish, not audibly anyway. Mike got the gist.

Retreating footsteps down the center aisle of the Winnebago signaled his departure. Mike waited until he could no longer hear them so he could rasp out weakly, “What a dick.”

Jay breathed a laugh out of his nose but it lacked enthusiasm. He had been laughing brightly last night, however, over his beer as he talked about his love scary movies.

“I like a good monster flick,” Mike had said.

“A ‘good’ one,” Jay said with a glowing smile.

“There are good ones!”

“I know, I know. ‘The Thing.’”

“How am I already in love with you?”

“The feeling’s mutual,” Jay murmured, shyly but genuinely as blood had rushed to his cheeks. 

And it must have been because it was tangible between them, a strange magnetism, a gravitation. 

Mike had put a hand on his knee. Jay had put his hand over it. 

“Rules. Rules are important in a film,” Mike had said after some more horror movie talk. “Coherent, established rules.”

Jay’s snicker hit him like a shot of hard liquor. “For example?”

“Having to be asleep for Freddy to get you,” Mike said. 

“Or vampires not being able to go out in the sunlight?”

“Exactly,” Mike said. 

And Jay smiled but it hadn’t reached his eyes.

* * *

It couldn’t be true. Shit like this didn’t really exist. It was only in movies, in comic books and in folktales.

But here Mike was, stumbling down a dark, empty street, drool dangling from his chin and his stomach in knots. 

The Winnebago had parked in an abandoned parking lot at dusk. Jay had held his cheek, kissed his eyelids, his lips, looked him in the eye and dispelled any remaining confusion at his current state and his soon to be future one.

He’d be fine. But he’d be different.

It was too much. Mike clamored over Jay, fell out of bed, kicked open the van’s backdoors and fled into the dark of night. Jay had let him go. 

Mike wasn’t sure where he was going, just jogged half-heartedly down the sidewalk until he couldn’t stand the pain of standing.

He was hunched over, then, as he followed down a maze of small town streets still warm from the day. His shock had worn off but replacing it was a deep-seated feeling of longing for the one who had made him this way. 

And he was hungry. Dying.

Mike rounded the corner into an industrial side street. And standing at the end of it, outside of the parked van and with his back to a towering factory, Jay in a Gremlins t-shirt and a pair of dusty jeans. 

To anyone else, this image of a looming figure standing motionless at the end of the road might have been frightening, but to Mike, Jay appeared like a refuge.

Mike made it three-quarters of the way before falling to his knees. He crawled forward on all fours, gasping and coughing and choking on cries of pain.

Jay opened his arms for him when he made it, hands flitting over Mike’s shoulders and the back of his neck as Mike wrapped his arms around Jay’s thighs and pressed his face against Jay’s stomach. Warm. He was so warm.

Mike didn’t care about the gravel or shards of glass from broken beer bottles digging into his knees. And Jay didn’t care about the blade nicking the skin on the inside of his wrist. 

“Drink.”

The trickle of blood down Jay’s skin and onto the pavement glittered in the nearby green-purple light of the street lamp. Mike stared at Jay’s wrist in front of his face, eyes wide, hands shaking and fingers digging into Jay’s thighs like they had last night.

The slimmest slip of night wind blew over them, and on it was carried the metallic scent of life. 

Mike’s pupils engulfed his irises. He surged forward. 

Blood spread over his tongue like the sweetest honey, the scent filling his sinuses and making his face pulse with dizzying heat. This was the forbidden fruit, the thing too delicious to not send him straight to Hell and there was no way Mike was ever giving this up.

Mike held Jay’s wrist tight against his mouth and drank mouthful after mouthful of relief quickly dousing the fire of hunger and pain in him. 

“Okay, okay. Hold on.” Jay pushed back his hair, pushed firmer. “ _ Mike.” _

Mike pulled off of him. He was panting hard but with this newfound strength, found his feet under him. Mike stood without the discomfort of effort and the world was suddenly clearer, the wind fresher, the man in front of him still gorgeous and absolutely delicious in every way. 

So Mike would live— forever and ever, actually. He’d finally have a viable excuse for sleeping all day and Jay wanted him to stick around, wanted to share that tiny little bed with him, wanted to write a new horror-love story with him. 

For Mike, that wasn’t such a bad deal. Not at all. 

And there was blood smeared on Mike’s cheek and covering his lips but Jay kissed him anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> Come talk to me on tumblr: @marasamoon


End file.
